CYCLAMEN
Florists’ cyclamen—Cyclamen persicum–are great imposters. Despite the Latin name, they do not hail from Persia or modern-day Iran. The flowers look more like orchids than their primrose-family affiliation might suggest, and their leaves, when massed together, look less like foliage and more like marble or damask fabric. Beguiling plant buyers with their ravishing good looks, not to mention all that subterfuge, cyclamens inveigle their way into our homes in the tens of thousands, especially at holiday time.
I know this because one sang its siren song to me last week and now holds court atop the piano in my foyer. It boasts characteristic, nodding pink and white flowers with ruffled edges. A few additional, tightly furled buds are partially hidden beneath the top layer of leaves. As is typical of cyclamens, the flowers resemble butterflies, orchids or badminton shuttlecocks, depending on your point of view. Each has three petals, swept back in alluring manner. The mound of heart-shaped leaves at the plant’s base is dark green, with each leaf marked and marbled in silver. They almost swirl before your eyes.
In the beginning, Cyclamen persicum was a wildflower, growing carefree in areas that are now parts of Syria, Turkey, Lebanon, Israel, Jordan, Algeria and Tunisia. Like many native plants, species Cyclamen persicum bear little resemblance to their modern, domestic descendants. Breeders first took an interest in the plants in the early nineteenth century and have been working on them ever since in England, continental Europe and Japan. All that breeding and propagating work set the stage for cyclamens to burst onto the mass merchandising scene about forty years ago.
Consumers have always loved big flowers, so breeders made that trait a priority. Once the flowers bulked up, plantsmen produced larger plants with a wider range of flower colors. Now, some specimens, like mine, have big, ruffled petals. Double flowers and contrasting or “picotee” petal edges also emerged from the selective breeding process. I love yellow blooms and now, if you know where to look, you can buy pale yellow cyclamens. Lovers of bodacious reds can purchase cyclamens in that color, as well as the more traditional white, pink, rose and purple.
The name, “cyclamen”, like many plant names, comes from Greek by way of Latin. “Cyclamen” is derived from the Latin “cyclamnos”, which means circle or wheel. It is the same root that gave rise to the word “cyclone”, a spinning, circular vortex of wind and debris. The roots are round and, after the flowers fade, the stems begin to bend under the weight of the developing fruit or seed capsules, eventually circling back on themselves.
But what of the gorgeous cyclamen that many of us will buy for friends and/or ourselves in December and January? For many people the plants have a habit of dazzling then disappointing, leading them to their ultimate fate—a curbside position on bulk pick-up day. To avoid that, display your cyclamen in a place that is out of direct sunlight. Remove the fancy foil that surrounds the pot and deposit the plastic pot in a larger, decorative container, if you wish. Water only when the soil surface is dries to the touch; too much water will cause root rot and kill the plant.
With proper care a plant with some open flowers and a few buds should bloom for three or more weeks. Once the bloom period is over, gradually cut down on watering until the plant goes into dormancy. This is the point when most people think the cyclamen has died and throw it out. Instead of doing that, put the pot somewhere cool and moderately dry and leave it there through the end of summer. Around Labor Day, attempt a resurrection by soaking the soil thoroughly and bringing the pot to a spot with bright, indirect light. Wait until you see signs of sprouting before watering again and then resume a regular watering schedule. Feed with commercial houseplant fertilizer according to package directions. With a bit of luck, the cyclamen will begin its growth cycle all over again.
If for some reason the cyclamen has actually died, skip the guilt and purchase another one. The death was probably not your fault. When thousands of plants are raised in a carefully controlled environment, forced into bloom at a specific time and sometimes tended haphazardly once they reach retailers, life spans can be short.
Ironically, in the Victorian language of flowers, cyclamens, which seem so bright and cheerful to me, are symbolic of goodbyes. That being the case, I cannot think of a more colorful gift to celebrate the waning of the Old Year.